First Job
by joy4957
Summary: Teenaged Tony lands his first summer job but things take a disastrous turn when an explosion levels his workplace.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I wanted to try my hand at a story where Gibbs and Tony are family, still keeping the dynamics of protectiveness and caring. In this story, Tony is 16 years old. I hope you enjoy. And I don't own the characters but sure wish I did!_

**Chapter 1**

It was, strangely enough, silence that woke him up. Jethro lay in bed for a few moments, thinking how the unusual quiet was more disturbing than the more typical sounds of his children laughing or arguing or playing. With a sigh he stretched and then arose from the bed, missing the usual morning kiss and cuddle that he and Jen would share. He glanced out the window and saw that it was going to be a beautiful day, and he wistfully wished his family was all here to enjoy it together. But Jenny and the younger kids were visiting his dad in Stillwater for a couple weeks for a summer vacation. He and Tony would be there now, too, but Tony had recently started his first summer job and wouldn't be free until after his shift today. Jethro grinned as he imagined his dad's house, wondering how his father was surviving the vacation blitz with his energetic children. Even with Jen's steadying presence, he knew how exhausting they could be. His eyes fell on the family photo on the dresser, taken only two weeks earlier, and it drew an involuntary smile. Jen, her red hair glinting in the sun, was sitting with her arms around 8-year-old Abby and 6-year-old Tim (whose smile was endearingly missing two front teeth). Sixteen year old Tony stood next to them, his green eyes alight with amusement, his handsome face sporting his ready smile.

Jethro finished his bathroom duties and then got dressed and headed down to the kitchen for some badly needed coffee. He made a light breakfast and did a little office paperwork that he had brought home. Glancing at the clock, he headed back upstairs and down the hall to Tony's room. The teen was heavily asleep even though the alarm clock radio on the nightstand next to him was blaring what kids today called music; Jethro considered it more along the lines of just loud noise. Tony was sprawled contentedly on the bed, his bedcovers messily half hanging off the bed, his face buried in the soft pillow. Jethro turned off the radio and nudged his son. "Up and at 'em, sleepyhead," he prodded.

Tony slowly stirred, blinking owlishly up at his dad. "It can't be time to get up yet," he protested in a sleep-hoarse voice, pulling the covers around himself and trying to resettle.

"Yeah, it is," Jethro corrected, pulling back the covers. "Now get moving. I'll start your breakfast."

""Mmmff," Tony managed. Jethro shook his head with a smile and headed downstairs.

"C'mon, Tony, get a move on!" Jethro called up the stairs fifteen minutes later, turning back to the kitchen to finish preparing breakfast. He listened for the telltale signs that his son was moving around, but silence reigned. With a sigh, Jethro placed the scrambled eggs and bacon in the oven to keep warm and headed upstairs.

He stood for a moment at the doorway of Tony's room, eying his teenage son. The soft sound of slow, regular breathing told him he was still sleeping peacefully. Jethro went over to the bed and shook Tony's shoulder firmly. "Hey, kiddo, time to get up!"

Tony gave a groan and reluctantly opened bleary eyes. "Aww, Dad, just a few more minutes," he pleaded sleepily.

Jethro shook his head decisively and pulled back the covers, chuckling when Tony made a vain attempt to grab them back. "Now. You'll be late for work if you don't hurry up. Breakfast is ready. Be downstairs in ten."

"Okay." Tony stretched and sat up. Jethro suppressed a grin as he viewed his son's unruly hair, which apparently couldn't figure out which way to lay. He patted his leg and headed back downstairs.

Tony ran down the stairs a short time later, dressed in jeans and one of his father's old USMC t-shirts and looking somewhat alert. He sniffed appreciatively as he slid onto a chair with a murmured, "Thanks, Dad! Smells good. I'm hungry." as Jethro placed a plate in front of him.

Jethro smiled, handing him a glass of orange juice. "You're ALWAYS hungry," he countered fondly, leaning back against the counter as he sipped a cup of coffee.

Tony flashed him a grin, his emerald eyes bright. "Well, Dad, you know what they say about growing boys …"

"Just be sure what direction you're growing!" Jethro returned with a pointed look at Tony's stomach, his blue eyes amused.

"Hey, I am not getting fat!" Tony protested indignantly. "You know, Mom wouldn't let you get away with saying that if she were here!"

Jethro shrugged. "Well, she's not, so deal." After a few minutes he glanced at the clock and drained the last of his coffee. "Come on, let's get going. If we don't leave now you'll be late." Tony was working part-time at a small local sporting goods store only 10 minutes away, and was doing very well there. He didn't yet have his driver's license, so Jethro provided the transportation.

Tony shoveled in a last mouthful of eggs and a quick gulp of juice and stood. "Alright, alright, I'm coming." He grinned and shot a mischievous look at his dad. "It's not like Matt would fire me for being late … I'm his best salesman. I know how to use all the equipment!"

"Go on!" Jethro growled, playfully ruffling the kid's hair.

Tony's eyes widened in alarm. "Dad!" he protested, automatically smoothing his hair. Jethro just grinned and shook his head, nudging his son towards the door.

Jethro pulled up at the East Gate Shopping Center, just in front of the sporting goods store, which was located near the middle of the small strip mall of five stores. "Okay, son, I'll be back at 3 to pick you up," he said as Tony opened the car door. "I want you to mow the lawn when we get back, so don't dawdle!"

Tony grimaced and gave a brief groan but nodded. Jethro reached over and grabbed Tony's arm before he could exit the car. As Tony turned to look at him expectantly, Jethro added, "Love you."

Tony's eyes glowed in response and he replied with a grin, "Love ya too, Dad." Jethro watched as he disappeared into the store before pulling away. His boy was growing up so fast …

Jethro stopped at the food store to pick up a few things, then returned home. After calling Jen to check in and chatting briefly with Abby and Tim, who were excitedly telling him how they were going fishing with his dad shortly, he cleaned up the mess from breakfast and then paused, noting again the intense silence in the house. With Jenny and the youngsters away, the house had never seemed so quiet. He thought he should be enjoying the respite from the constant noise, but he missed his family and, surprisingly, all the commotion and activity that usually was part of the household. He was now wishing he hadn't taken a couple weeks off; being busy at work would be welcome right now. But Vance had insisted that he take some of his extensive vacation time, and he thought this would be a good time to do some things around the house without interruption and the normal distractions his loving family – especially the two youngest – provided. He and Tony would be heading up to Stillwater early tomorrow morning for a long weekend, and Jethro was really looking forward to reuniting with his entire family.

As he headed down to the basement, he felt an unaccountable stirring in his gut. Frowning, he paused for a moment to assess things, running a quick mental checklist, then dismissed it. Everything was fine; he was on vacation and his family was good. His normally reliable gut must just be a little off …


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Tony was enjoying his first job. Well, okay, he'd rather be able to sleep in every day during summer break and hang out with his friends more, but it was great to be making some money. Besides, as soon as he got his driver's license he would need money for gas and all the fun activities he'd be free to do once he had some wheels, so he didn't really mind having to work a few days a week. His boss, Matt, was very easygoing and fun to work with, and he got a store discount on sporting equipment, so he felt pretty lucky. And the location was perfect – just across the street and down the block from one of his favorite pizza joints.

Tony tapped lightly on the glass door of the shop, which was still locked since the store wasn't opening for another half hour. Matt let him in with a pleasant "Good morning!" and directed him to the back room of the store to work on inventory and some restocking. As Tony began unpacking boxes and checking the inventory, he frowned at the loud noise clearly heard just outside the back wall. There was some construction work being done in the lot behind the store, and he found the jarring sound of chattering jackhammers a little distracting.

The store was fairly busy after the first hour, and Tony couldn't believe it was already almost 12:30 p.m. by the time he looked at the clock. His rumbling stomach, though, was well aware of the time. Matt gave him an amused look and, seeing there were no customers in the store at the moment, told him to go on lunch break. Tony happily headed over to the pizzeria with a promise to be back within the allotted time.

Tony squinted as he stepped outside the store, inhaling deeply as he enjoyed the fresh summer air on this perfect and sunny day. And then the world exploded.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Jethro gave a satisfied grunt as he sanded the small dresser. Jenny had been after him for a while to clean up Abby's dresser, removing the various scratches and dents in it that Jethro knew were caused by Tim and Abby's playful abuse of their toys. He grinned as he thought of them. He was happy to have an excuse to work in the basement. He didn't have much time these days to do woodworking and was enjoying the opportunity to work with his hands again. Stopping for a moment to take a sip of his ever-present coffee, he became aware once again of the unusual stillness in the house. Too quiet, he thought. He flipped on the small television he kept down here so he had some companionable noise.

As he bent over the dresser again, he heard the ominous words, "We interrupt your regular programming with breaking news." Looking up, curious, he saw a grim-faced news anchor on the television screen, with an apparently chaotic scene shown behind him. "There has been an explosion at the East Gate shopping center in Arlington Heights. Reporter Joel Harrison is on the scene. Joel, what can you tell us?"

Jethro had frozen at the words, numbly dropping the sandpaper as he stared at the television. The dark-haired reporter shook his head and readjusted his ear mike. "Mark, I'm standing about two blocks away from the East Gate shopping center. There was an explosion here about an hour ago. Preliminary reports are that all five stores in the strip mall were damaged or destroyed. The number of injured is not yet know, but we hear that at least a dozen people have been taken to area hospitals or treated onsite so far, although that number is likely to go up. There are at least two known fatalities. While it's too early to speculate on the cause of the explosion, I have learned that there was a construction crew working on the lot behind the stores, and one possibility is that they struck a gas line. That, of course, will be determined after an extensive inquiry." He stepped out of camera view, and the camera now panned the area, showing smoke and debris everywhere as well as the flashing lights of numerous emergency vehicles among a shifting sea of apparently dazed and traumatized people. Off camera, Joel continued, "Fire and rescue crews are on the scene and we understand the fire is now under control. Rescue crews will continue to look for more victims. From my vantage point here, it appears –"

Jethro heard no more as he raced up the stairs, grabbing his keys and dashing out to the car. His heart was racing and he felt sick_. _He rapidly called Tony's cell, distressed when there was no response._ Please, Tony, please be okay._ The mantra kept repeating itself as he sped to the scene.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Just as Tony was stepping off the curb to cross the street, a large explosion rocked the strip mall behind him, throwing him violently to the ground. He curled up defensively as debris rained down around him, wincing as he was struck by several pieces. After a few minutes that seemed like hours he cautiously sat up, staring in horrified disbelief at the former sporting goods store and the businesses that had flanked it. Most of the front of the building had caved in, and what stood now was only the blackened, charred, and gutted ruins of what used to be the small group of stores. Small patches of flaming debris along with broken bricks and shattered glass littered the street, and thick, choking smoke billowed from the destroyed building from the active fire that engulfed the back part of it.

Slowly and painfully Tony struggled to his feet and assessed himself. His head ached and a laceration above his right eyebrow bled freely down his face. Both arms had numerous but mostly superficial cuts and bruises, although his left arm was badly scraped, and his jeans were torn and bloody from additional cuts. His left wrist was really sore, having fallen heavily on it when he was thrown to the ground. He tentatively wiggled his fingers, wincing, but fortunately the wrist didn't appear to be broken, although it had already started swelling.

He strained to see through the haze of smoke and struggled to get closer to the destroyed building, searching for any victims. "Hey! Matt? Anyone?" Dimly behind him he could hear other people, some coughing and crying, and the increasingly loud sound of sirens. Tony started picking his way carefully through the debris, calling out for a response. His eyes watered in the heat and smoke but he pressed on resolutely. He caught his breath sharply when he saw a bloody arm sticking out from under some debris and he lurched forward, eying it apprehensively. Swallowing hard, he began to edge closer. "It's okay, I'll help you," he murmured nervously, reaching out.

Suddenly his arm was grabbed from behind and he was spun around to face a fireman in full gear, his mask dangling around his neck. "Hey, kid, you gotta get back!"

"No, look, there's someone there!" Tony cried, pointing and trying to move forward.

The fireman pulled him back firmly, saying, "We got it, it's okay. Let us handle it."

Tony stared at him dazedly, and the fireman gave him an appraising look. "I think you need to head over to the triage area, over there," he pointed vaguely to his right. When Tony didn't move, the fireman added quietly, "It'll be okay. Need me to take you over there?"

Tony shook his head and licked his dry lips. "N-no, that's okay, I can go on my own." He started over to the hastily assembled medical area, turning back to see the fireman, now joined by several others, standing over the site where he'd seen the bloody arm. Their shaking heads and defeated body language told him that it was too late for that poor victim. He prayed it wasn't Matt.

A paramedic in the triage area quickly cleaned him up and bandaged the worst of his cuts, informing him his left wrist (now tightly wrapped) was likely just sprained but should be x-rayed. He also noted that Tony might need a few stitches for his head laceration and placed a pressure bandage on the still slowly bleeding wound. He assured Tony that he was in pretty good shape but advised that he should go to the hospital when one of the ambulances became available to confirm he had no serious or hidden injuries and to rule out a possible concussion. Tony objected, insisting he didn't need to, but finally promised to get checked out by his personal physician. The paramedic, already busy with an influx of new patients, merely nodded and moved on to his next patient.

As Tony stood silently, watching the chaos around him, it suddenly occurred to him that he should call his father. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, only to discover it was smashed and useless. With a sigh, he found a relatively quiet space next to a building at the fringe of all the activity and sank down. The warm brick wall of the building felt oddly soothing to his bruised back, and he numbly watched the rescue efforts and frantic activity with dull and heavy eyes. He felt confused and scared and wanted desperately to see his dad, needing his strength and comfort. Before he knew it, he slipped into an uneasy sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Jethro pulled the car up to the scene as close as he could, a few blocks away, as the heavy presence of police, fire, and rescue personnel prevented him from getting any nearer. Racing out of his car, he impatiently flashed his badge at the policeman trying to prevent him from entering the area. Entering the area near the former strip mall, he slowed, staring in horror at the carnage. The store where Tony worked had been reduced to a smoldering shell of a building, the entire line of stores either totally destroyed or heavily damaged. Fire crews were spraying water on the dying fire that remained.

He scanned the area quickly, searching the faces of everyone he could see, praying to spot Tony, but after several anxious minutes he had no success. He spotted the triage area and ran up to it, looking around frantically for any sign of his son. Doctors, nurses, and paramedics were busy attending to the shocked and injured. His gaze swept through their patients rapidly, but he didn't find the one face he was desperate to see. Wandering a bit further, a little beyond the triage area, he saw to his horror a small row of three apparently dead people, covered by bright yellow blankets. Swallowing hard, he cautiously approached, his heart pounding when he saw some tufts of brown hair peeking beyond one of the blankets. With a trembling hand he reached forward and pulled down the blanket, sighing in relief when he realized it was not his teenager. Gently replacing the blanket, he returned to the triage area, accosting one of the paramedics.

"I'm looking for my son," Jethro said hoarsely.

The man gave him a brief harried look, then dropped his gaze back to the bandage he was wrapping around a crying woman's arm. "You should check with the person who is heading up the triage unit – tall guy, red hair and beard, in a blue jumpsuit. Name is Wickersham. Should be around here somewhere."

"Please, he's just a boy …" Jethro begged, his voice ragged.

The man paused and looked at him again, his eyes warming with compassion. "What does he look like?" he asked.

"He's 16, tall, dark hair and green eyes, wearing a USMC t-shirt –"

"Oh, yeah, I did see him!" the paramedic interrupted. "About … I don't know, maybe 30 or 40 minutes ago?"

"Where is he? Was he alright?" Jethro demanded anxiously.

"He was okay, just a little banged up," the man reassured him. "I don't know where he went, though. He didn't want to go to the hospital to get checked out."

"Thanks …" Jethro immediately turned, desperately searching the area again, running a shaking hand through his silvery hair and telling himself to breathe normally. How would he find his son in all this madness?

Jethro took a few steps, then stopped. He could feel the panic rising, and he knew that wouldn't help his son. He drew a deep, steadying breath, willing himself to use his training to adopt the Marine discipline of calm assessment and reasoning. Where would Tony go? As his eyes scanned the devastated scene around him, he realized, _he'd want to get out of the chaos, somewhere a little quieter_.

He moved forward, this time with purpose, carefully viewing the peripheral area. His gut lurched when he suddenly noted a familiar figure slouched against the side of a building half a block down. Heart pounding, he raced over. Sure enough, it was his son, who appeared to be sleeping fitfully. But oh thank God, he was breathing.

Jethro crouched beside him, blue eyes sweeping over his son appraisingly, taking in the various cuts, the bandaged forehead, and the wrapped wrist. Gently he reached out and touched Tony's face, saying softly, "Tony? C'mon, son, wake up."

Tony stirred, his eyes blinking dazedly for a moment before focusing on his dad's face. "Dad!" he cried, instantly reaching out his arms to cling tightly to his father. Jethro sank down beside him and held him, pressing Tony's face against his shoulder as he soothingly rubbed his back and murmured quiet words of reassurance. Tony trembled as he wept, but his father's gentle rocking, comforting words, and the strong arms around him shortly made him calm and relax.

At length Jethro drew back but still held his son, needing the reassurance of touching him, and he gently smoothed back the hair from Tony's face, carefully avoiding the bandage over his eye. "Okay, son?" he asked quietly.

Tony nodded, still leaning into his father. "Y-yeah, Dad, thanks," he answered.

"So, what's the damage?" Jethro asked, his concerned eyes once more assessing Tony.

"I'm okay, Dad, nothing too bad. Just a little beat up … a few cuts and a sprained wrist." Tony drew a shuddering breath and stared at his bandaged wrist. "I was lucky, a lot luckier than some …"

Jethro nodded, then rose, gently pulling Tony up as well and sliding a protective arm around him. "C'mon, son, let's go."

Tony gave a long, sad look at the devastation and controlled chaos around him, then gave a deep sigh. "Yeah, I want to go home," he said quietly.

Jethro didn't tell him that he would first take him to NCIS to be looked over by Ducky, knowing that his teenager would protest. He carefully guided Tony to the car, watching as the boy sank wearily onto the seat, his eyes closing as he rested his head back. Jethro started the car, reaching out to squeeze Tony's hand and murmuring, "It will be okay, Tony" before pulling out. Tony returned the pressure with the barest of nods, grateful for his dad's strong, reassuring presence. He felt safe again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Tony was silent during the first 10 minutes of the drive to NCIS, staring sightlessly out the window but not really seeing the scenery that was passing by. Jethro didn't try to force a conversation, realizing that his son needed some time to absorb what had happened and reorient himself.

Then Tony moved restlessly and gave a deep sigh. Jethro glanced at him encouragingly but remained quiet, waiting.

"Dad?" Tony finally ventured, almost inaudibly.

"Yeah, son?"

"I don't … I mean, I wonder … I …" Tony floundered.

"Slowly, Tony. Take your time. It's okay."

"No, it's not okay!" Tony suddenly yelled vehemently, slapping his hand on the car door. "I don't understand why it happened! And how I got off so easy! I mean, people died, Dad!" He swallowed hard and shuddered, his eyes now distant, as if he was seeing the whole scene play out in front of him, wanting to look away but too mesmerized to stop watching. Tony continued more quietly, in a voice so broken with pain that Jethro's heart ached, "The noise when the explosion occurred was … very loud and … so frightening. I found myself on the ground, not knowing what had happened. I … I had just left the store to go to lunch and within a minute everything blew up, right behind me. Only a minute … if I'd still been in the store I might have been killed. So it was only dumb timing that saved me. I just don't understand …"

He was near tears, and Jethro quickly pulled the car over to the shoulder of the road and turned to his son, touching his cheek lightly. "I know it doesn't make any sense, Tony," he said softly. "It probably never will. You'll find in life that sometimes it's just dumb luck that gets you through. And when we can't understand or find an explanation for something bad that happens, it hurts." He wrapped his hand warmly around Tony's neck and squeezed gently. "But that doesn't mean it is a bad thing that you survived. I know you are confused and scared, and that's normal. But I'm here for you, whenever you want to talk or vent or cry or do whatever helps you get through this. You aren't alone."

Tony relaxed his tense posture and gave Jethro a wavering smile. "Thanks, Dad. I know I have your support, and it helps to know I can lean on you."

"Always," Jethro promised, giving Tony's neck another affectionate squeeze. "Okay for now?"

Tony nodded, blowing out a breath. "Yeah, I think so." And this time his smile, while not his usual megawatt grin, was more sincere. Jethro ruffled his hair with a satisfied, "Okay!" and put the car in gear to resume driving.

The rest of the drive was quiet, and although Tony said nothing more, Jethro felt he was more peaceful, at least for the moment.

Tony pouted when they entered the NCIS office and headed down to Autopsy, but seeing the lingering concern and fear on his dad's face, he realized that his father needed the reassurance that all was good as much as he did. Besides, he was too tired to mount much of a protest anyway. Jethro had called Ducky on the way to the NCIS office, briefly explaining what had happened, and asked him to look Tony over. They both knew that Tony, traumatized by the event, would relax and be more compliant if Ducky, someone who knew him well and who he trusted, was the one to examine him.

Ducky gave Tony a gentle but thorough examination, his soft, cultured voice murmuring soothing reassurances throughout, making both father and son more comfortable and relaxed. He thankfully had no new injuries to add to the list, although Tony did receive a few stitches for his head laceration. His wrist was x-rayed and rewrapped with the assurance that it was simply a bad sprain that would heal in a few weeks. Ducky quietly pulled Jethro aside and advised him to keep an eye on Tony, noting that the trauma of the event might require the assistance of a counselor in the coming weeks to discuss his fears and feelings. Jethro nodded soberly, acknowledging that today's event was not unlike some of the trauma he had witnessed during his service in the Corps.

As they awaited Ducky to round up some pain medication (which Tony staunchly argued that he didn't need, and Jethro just as adamantly insisted that he did), Jethro called Jenny to let her know what had happened. Alarmed, she wanted to come home right away, but after several minutes Jethro managed to assure her that everything was okay and they would still be coming up the next day. Quietly, he told her that he felt that getting away for a few days in the serene setting of Stillwater with his loving family would help Tony get past the trauma, and reluctantly she agreed to stay with his father and await their arrival. Tony then chatted briefly with his mom, promising her that he was fine and that he'd give her all the details when he saw her.

Ducky returned shortly, handing Jethro a small bottle of pills and giving him brief instructions. He patted Tony gently on the leg. "There you go, my dear boy, all set. If either of you need anything, just give me a call. I suggest a good, healthy dinner – NOT pizza –" he shot both Tony and Jethro a stern look, "and then an early night. You both could use a good rest."

Tony flashed him a tired grin as he slid off the table. "Thanks, Ducky."

"Thanks, Duck," Jethro echoed with a grateful smile, wrapping his arm around Tony as they headed for the elevator.

Ducky watched them depart with a fond smile. "Anytime, my friend," he murmured.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

They slid into the car after leaving Ducky, and as Jethro moved to start the car, he suddenly stopped, turning to Tony, still feeling some anxiety flowing from him. "Okay, son?" he asked softly.

Tony nodded, giving Jethro a reassuring smile. "Yeah, Dad, I'm okay. I just … if you don't mind, I don't think I want to talk about what happened today right now. I just want to tune it out for tonight, if that's all right."

"Sure, Tony, no problem," Jethro responded easily. "Whatever you wish." As he pulled out, he added casually, "You know, Abby and Tim went fishing today. I can just imagine the stories we're going to hear tomorrow …"

Tony laughed. "Oh boy! If I remember, last time Tim lost his balance trying to reel in a fish and took Abby into the water with him. Let's hope they did better this time!"

And so the conversation went, light and commonplace, and Jethro could feel the tension leave Tony as they talked about the normal activities in their lives.

After enjoying a leisurely dinner at a favorite local diner, Jethro and Tony happily but wearily returned home. After more hugs and murmured words of love and affection, they both retired to their beds, happy to put the tumultuous day behind them. Jethro, exhausted from the roller coaster ride of strong emotions, thought he would fall asleep almost instantly. However, he was restless and unsettled, haunted by the "what if's" and how close things had been to turning out differently. After an hour of tossing he slipped out of bed and padded quietly down to Tony's room. Opening the door slowly, he silently entered the dark room and viewed his son, who was lying comfortably in a tangle of sheets across his bed, breathing softly and deeply. Jethro stood by the bed just watching Tony, unable to leave his side, still rattled by the close call and the unthinkable outcome that could have resulted. He was grateful Tony was sleeping peacefully and there were apparently no nightmares to disturb him this night.

He gently straightened the rumpled sheets and tucked the covers warmly around his sleeping son, then reached out to caress his unruly hair, smiling when Tony unconsciously nestled into the touch with a sigh of contentment. His blue eyes took in the small gauze bandage on Tony's forehead and the wrapped wrist, and he blew out a breath at how lucky he was to escape with only minor injuries. Leaning forward, Jethro placed a tender kiss on his forehead and then sank into the chair beside the bed for a while, soothed by his son's easy breathing, keeping quiet vigil over his boy and just enjoying the precious gift of his life.

After about an hour Jethro decided reluctantly to head back to bed although he still wasn't sleepy and wanted nothing more than to stay by his son's side. Just as he stood and was turning to leave, Tony stirred and Jethro found a pair of sleepy green eyes blinking at him.

"Dad?" Tony asked drowsily, rubbing his eyes with a yawn. "Everything okay?"

Jethro smiled. "It is now," he said softly, reaching out to touch Tony's cheek.

Tony smiled back and studied his father for a moment, his eyes warm with understanding. He scooted over on his bed and opened up the blanket invitingly. "C'mon," he murmured with a light laugh. "You need sleep, too."

With a grin, Jethro slid onto the warm bed, leaning on the soft pillows crushed against the headboard, and gathered Tony against him. Tony lay his head on his broad chest and listened to the soothing rhythm of his father's steady heartbeat, comforted as always by the strong arms around him, and gave a contented sigh. Even though he was probably too old to be cuddled by his dad, he didn't think he'd ever want to give up these special moments. "Night, Dad," he whispered, eyes already slipping closed.

Jethro tightened his hug briefly and dropped a kiss on his son's soft hair. "Night, Tony," he returned quietly, his own eyes closing. His boy safe and warm in his protective hold, sleep came easily now …


End file.
